


The Stubbornness of Hobbits

by Marionhood



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Female Bilbo Baggins, Post-The hobbit, no one dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 15:39:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13169976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marionhood/pseuds/Marionhood





	1. Chapter 1

“The King-Under-the-Mountain lives!”

“I don't care!” Bilba spat angrily shoving her belongings in her pack.

The dwarf who'd delivered the message was one of the Iron Hill's contingency and he seemed to swell in the doorway of the tent.

“How dare...”

“What the hobbit means to say,” Gandalf broke in from where he'd been skulking in the shadows, “Is that we already know.” His bushy eyebrows met under his pointed hat with the force of thunderclouds. “Go bellow at someone ignorant!”

The annoyed dwarf stormed off and Bilba turned away from the wizard so he couldn't see her wiping her eyes clear of tears. Gandalf huffed in the corner.

“The hobbit knows precisely what she means.” Bilba snapped, voice still rather thick. Anger was taking over now, sheer Tookish fury backed up by reliable Baggins indignation.

Wizards are rarely intimidated by creatures a third of their size, so Gandalf didn't shy away from the tiny female whose emotions were almost setting the tent alight.

“Are you sure you wish...” He cautioned and Bilba sighed.

“ The boys are on the mend, Oin told me so. The dragon is dead, the conflict is done. There is _no_ reason for me to stay here.” She told him reasonably, tightening Sting's scabbard about her waist. “I simply wish to return to the Shire. I don't see why anything should stop me.” 

“And what of Thorin?” Gandalf asked, eyes twinkling at her in something akin to pity.

Bilba flinched.

“The business of the King of Erebor is no business of mine.” She announced resolutely.

“Is that so?” The wizard challenged.

Her expression hardened somewhat, showing how little was left of the soft creature that had fled the Shire in the company of dwarves.

“He threw me off the battlements!” She hissed in fury.

“The dragon sickness...” Gandalf placated.

“Off. The. Battlements!” She bit out each word, before shaking off the memories. Bilba turned back to her pack, tightening the last straps. “If not for you, I'd be dead.”

“He apologised...” 

“Apologies made on one's assumed deathbed do not count.” She swung her cloak about her shoulders and attached the dwarvish shield she'd picked up in the battle to the back of her pack. “And as far as I'm concerned, I want nothing more to do with him.”   
Bilba turned to glare at the wizard and saw that he was watching her with a rather sad expression.

“I am very proud of you, Mistress Baggins.” Gandalf murmured. “But dwarves are stubborn creatures and Thorin....”

Bilba snorted in such an unladylike fashion that her cousin Lobelia would have smacked her with a ladle.

“Thorin has no interest in me. And I'm sorry Gandalf but...I simply cannot stay here.” She told him and pulled on her pack. The hobbit caught sight of herself in one of the mirrors Thranduil left littered about his tents and sighed heavily. “I am a mockery of a hobbit.” She added sadly and the wizard laughed.

“But a better one for it, I think.” He murmured and she smiled sadly.

Another dwarf stumbled into the tent, chest heaving as though he had run a great distance.

“Thorin,” He gasped, resting his hands on his knees as he struggled for breath, “King-Under-The-Mountain...requests...your presence....”

Bilba handed the dwarf a spare water skin which he took gratefully.

“Immediately.” He added as an afterthought before drinking his fill.

Bilba's eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Does he now?” The dwarf took a cautious step backward, clutching the skin. “Tell King Thorin that I've been banished from his wretched mountain, a fact he should well know as he's the one who banished me in the first place!”

The dwarf gaped at her.

“In those precise words?” He asked weakly.

“Yes!”

“Away with you!” Gandalf snapped and the dwarf sped off again, throwing a fearful look back over his shoulder.

“You still doubt him?” The wizard asked once the runner was far enough away.

Bilba shrugged.

“The stubbornness of dwarves is not my concern.” She told him, but paused. “However...” The hobbit reached for a scrap of paper and a pencil, scrawling down a message and signing it with a flourish. “When that dwarf returns, give him this.” She handed him the folded slip, before stepping back and smiling somewhat bitterly. “I expect I'll see you soon enough, Gandalf.”

The wizard's lips twitched into a smile.

“It would seem likely. Follow the elves through Mirkwood, Thranduil has promised you safe passage. Elrond will no doubt escort you the rest of the way.”

“But not before he tries to feed me.” Bilba smiled fondly. “That elf is worse than a hobbit.”

“You remind him of his daughter,” Gandalf told her fondly. “He can be somewhat overprotective.” 

A fearsome roar sounded in the distance and Bilba's eyes widened as she recognised the source.

“I'd say news of your departure has been delivered.” Gandalf ushered her out of the tent flap. “Swift travels, my friend.”

Bilba, dwarvish braids swinging behind her, jogged to the boundary of the camp and then seemed to vanish from view. The wizard laughed fondly as a contingent of dwarves rushed past him, apparently looking for someone who was proving rather hard to find.

Hobbits really were odd creatures.

Because wizards are curious beings by nature, and because Gandalf considered Bilba to be a close enough friend that he could spy on her, he read the missive.

_Thorin Oakenshield,_

_Please take this as notification of the end of my employment as your burglar._

_My contracted obligations have been fulfilled and you have no further need of my services._

_Yours in good faith,_

_Mistress Bilba Baggins (of Bag End)_

_Burglar_

_P.S_

_If you've something to say to me you blockheaded lump of granite, you can come and find me yourself._

The wizard snorted and put the note in his pocket. This he would deliver himself.

But not until she'd gotten a decent head start.

 

* * *

It had been a long journey home, for all that it took her less time than the one _to_ the mountain. Bilba had hopped onto the back of one of Thranduil's supply carts and had an easy journey through the Mirkwood. The elves she had met had been nice enough companions (gossip travels fast amongst elves and news of Bilba's aid to King Thranduil had gotten around) and the Mirkwood was a nicer place to be entirely when one had the blessing of its ruler.

Getting across the Grey Mountains had been rather more difficult, but Bilba was well received in Rivendell where, as predicted, Lord Elrond had fussed over her for almost a week, much to the amusement of the Lady Arwen. The elves escorted her to the borders of the Shire before leaving her be, finally home and once again, alone.

Hobbiton hadn't changed. Bilba gathered stares as she marched through the lanes, clad in an elvish cloak, dwarvish shield still held loosely in her hand. The shouting reached her ears from the foot of   the hill and Bilba was met with the sight of a gang of Hobbits standing in her garden.

“I don't care what no piece of paper says!” A furious hobbit Bilba identified as the Hamfast Gamgee, her young gardener, cried. He appeared to be brandishing a rake. “This is Miss Bilba's home and she ain't dead!”

A rather snooty voice sounded from the front of the crowd.

“She's been gone for almost a year. No matter what correspondence she may have left _you_ , her family have declared her dead and as a result...” 

“Dead!” Bilba cried and the hubbub fell quiet. “I've been gone a year and you declare me dead!”

Hamfast lowered his rake looking intensely relieved.

“Miss Bilba, there you are.” He sighed.

“Indeed.” Bilba scowled. “What is going on here?” She demanded.

There was a bit of shuffling and then a rather elderly hobbit was shoved towards the front of the group.

“Who're you?” He asked, peering at her.

“Who...? Oh for crying out loud, you know who I am!” Bilba snapped.

The elderly lawyer sniffed.

“Do you have proof of your identity?”

Bilba scowled.

“Oh, for the love of...” 

* * *

After seeing off Lobelia's lawyers, which had coincidentally earned her a reputation for sword waving (Dwalin would be so proud), Bilba settled back into Bag End.

Some things were the same. Hamfast still sang out of tune as he pruned the roses and well-meaning relatives still pressured her to settle down like a _proper_ hobbit.

Many things were different, not least with Bilba herself.

She no longer ate seven meals a day, having grown used to the dwarves three and the scarce rations on the road. She gathered stares when she went to the market because Sting was almost permanently strapped to her waist, even when she returned to her dresses and shawls. Her thick black curls, inherited from her mother Belladonna were no longer loose around her shoulders, instead bound tightly into dwarven braids taught to her by Kíli and Gloin after they'd watched her struggle with her hair for days on end.

She wasn't the same hobbit who'd left the Shire. She wasn't the same hobbit who'd looked into dark mercurial eyes and seen light.


	2. Princes and Elves

The spring storms had finally blown in when her first guests arrived.

Two knocks sounded in tandem at her doorway late one evening. Drawing her sword, Bilba made her way cautiously to the front door. Outside, the wind howled, rattling the windows of her smial and thunder rumbled in the distance. With some difficulty she forced the door open, only just stopping it from crashing into the wall.

Bilba stared.

Standing on her doorstep, soaked to the skin were the last two beings Bilba had ever expected to see again. Kíli, who was beaming somewhat manically and the elf Tauriel, who looked vaguely apologetic.

Whilst Bilba's Took side was too busy being shocked, the Baggins upbringing took charge.

“Oh, dear me. Come inside!” She ushered them through the door and then, with Kíli 's help, managed to get it bolted shut again. “Get your wet things off, I'll get you a towel. Tauriel, watch your head, my dear.”   


She bustled off down the hallway to her linen cupboard, where she hauled out her two largest towels, paused, directed a fast string of curses in Kuzdul at her stack of bed sheets and then headed back to the front door.

There was now a small stack of weapons atop her mother's trunk and a somewhat larger pile of cloaks, coats, and boots, which had spread a puddle of water around her floor. She passed one towel to Kíli , whose hair was quite literally dripping and another to poor Tauriel who was forced to hunch over slightly to deal with the smial's lower ceilings.

“The fire's lit.” She murmured and they needed no further encouragement as they headed towards her living room. Other than the thankful smile the elf gave her, neither said anything, something that filled Bilba with fearsome dread. Whatever this visit was, it could not be good.

Still, she had guests to attend to and a pile of wet clothes to deal with. Dread would have to wait.

It took her several trips to carry their wet things to the drying room, and she only realised why after she'd finished. Sting was still held tightly in her grip, the blade glinting in the light.

“Oh bother,” Bilba whispered and sheathed it.

* * *

Someone had tossed more logs onto the fire and it roared merrily, filling the room with warmth and causing her guests to steam slightly. Kíli had taken one of the armchairs and had dragged it closer to the fireplace, whilst Tauriel had folded her legs elegantly and was sitting by the hearth, looking around her with interest.

“What were you doing out in a storm like that?” Bilba asked carefully, eyeing both her guests with suspicion.

“Looking for you.” Kíli snapped, toweling his hair dry.

There is a very good reason dwarves live in mountains and not houses or forests. The chances of rain are greatly decreased when one has a hundred feet of stone overhead.

Dwarves do not like getting wet.

With this knowledge in hand, Bilba simply resolved to ignore the dwarf until he was in a better mood and turned her attention to her other guest.

“I don't believe we've ever been properly introduced,” She said to the elf with a small bow. “Bilba Baggins, at your service.”

The elf smiled.   


“Tauriel,” She inclined her head in as close to a bow as one can get whilst sitting on the floor. “At yours.”

Kíli  groaned for no apparent reason and was ignored.

“I think I'll put the kettle on.” Bilba decided. “You're in luck. I've made some of the blackberry tarts you like, Kíli .”

The dwarf's head snapped up at that and Bilba left the room to the sound of bright elvish laughter.

She took her time boiling the kettle and setting out a tray with tea things, trying to spend as long as she possibly could avoiding her guests. But eventually the tray was filled and she carried it back through, settling it down on the low table.

Kíli , who never could stand having still hands, had moved Tauriel in front of him so she was leaning against his knees and was busy braiding her long auburn hair back from her face. Tauriel smiled uncertainly up at Bilba as the hobbit placed both tarts and tea within easy reach, before pulling her favourite armchair closer and settling in it.

Kíli 's mood seemed to have improved greatly for he grinned at her from around a mouthful of tart (although how he'd managed to pick it up remained a mystery because both his hands were still busy braiding).

“So,” Bilba said decisively, sensing she could no longer ignore the issue at hand. “What brings the Prince of Erebor and King Thranduil's Guard Captain to my door at such a late hour?”

“Ex-Guard Captain.” Tauriel corrected gently. Bilba looked at her in question and the elf grimaced. “Running off to follow dwarves whilst on duty is somewhat frowned upon.”

Kíli  sighed and muttered something in Kuzdul which seemed to include words like “king” and “arse”. Bilba only really knew the crude words, it had delighted Dwalin when she’d used them.

“Do we need a reason to visit our favourite hobbit?” He added brightly.

“I'm the only hobbit you know.” Bilba snapped. “Kíli ...”

The young dwarf grinned mischievously and made a show of eating the rest of his tart, extremely slowly. Bilba's unamused gaze met Tauriel's mirthful one. The elf was pursing her lips, always a sure sign an elf was laughing, at least on the inside.

“Him?” She asked in wonder. “For _ him _ you chased a company of dwarves?”

“Some days I wonder if I was moon addled.” Tauriel said with mock seriousness, eyes shining. Behind her Kíli  gasped.   


“You wound me, my lady.”   


“No, she doesn't.” Bilba levelled a butter knife at the recalcitrant prince. “But I will. Speak Kíli !”

“Oh, if I must.” The dwarf sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “We came to look for you. We were supposed to catch you before you crossed the Misty Mountains, but things got ahead of me.” His eyes were solemn and dark. “Thorin, King-Under-The-Mountain sends you good tidings and it is my honour to inform you that your banishment from Erebor has been lifted. I have been instructed to escort you back to your rightful home.”   
Bilba gaped at them. It probably wasn't particularly attractive, but she couldn't help it.

“Lifted?” She managed. “But...”   


“You should never have been banished in the first place.” Kíli  spat angrily and Bilba was amazed to see that that anger wasn't directed at her, but instead at the dwarf king. “Thorin was gold-mad. I should have thrown myself off those battlements after you.” He added bitterly. “It would have been better.”   


“Don't say that.” Bilba whispered faintly.

“You were alone, without kin, in a camp of el...strangers. Gandalf told us you went into battle alone, without any at your side. Aye, it would've been better.”

Bilba smiled sadly.   


“You foolish dwarf. If you had been watching me, who would've been watching Fíli?” He shrugged. “Besides, your uncle is your family...”   


“And you are like a sister to me.” The dwarf told her intently.

Something had been tugging at Bilba's feet and it took her a moment to place what it was.

“Did you say “ _ rightful home _ ”?” She questioned, incredulous.

Kíli  winced.

“Ah.” He said.

“I am home!” Bilba cried. “I'm a Baggins in Bag End! My family have lived in this Shire since the very beginning! Rightful home indeed.”

“King Thorin feels that it is...inappropriate” Tauriel broke in gently, “For his betrothed to live quite so many leagues away.”

Wind seemed to rush in Bilba's ears as she swayed in her armchair.

“ _ Betrothed _ ?” She screeched, standing up.

And then promptly fainted.

* * *

“I told you she didn't know.” Tauriel was saying cheerfully as she awoke.

Kíli  grunted and there was the unmistakable sound of coin being handed over. Bilba opened her eyes to the sight of a concerned looking elf leaning over her, although she was mostly preoccupied with grinning at Kíli .

“Betrothed?” Bilba said again, startling both of them. She sounded out the word as Tauriel helped her to her feet. “Be-troth-ed?”   


“Yes?” Kíli  looked at her with  worry. “You didn't know?”

“I am _ not _ betrothed to Thorin bloody Oakenshield.” Bilba snapped, glowering at the pair of them fiercely.

“Maybe we should start from the beginning.” Kíli  suggested uneasily. Bilba scowled at him and he flinched. Bilba had never been very sure where the dwarf's fear of females came from, save that it was one he shared with most of the Company. Dwarrowdams must be fearsome creatures indeed to inspire such reverence in their kin.

“That would be a very good idea.” Bilba seethed.

“King Thorin,” Tauriel started, “Was most distressed...”   


“Furious more like.” Kíli  broke in.

“When he learned you planned to leave the camp, he sent an envoy of dwarves out after you to stop you...”   


So that's what all that commotion had been as she'd left the camp that night.

“When it became obvious that you were nowhere to be found,”   


“And the elves refused to tell us if they'd seen you,” Kíli  added, earning himself a look of bemusement from Tauriel.

“He called off the search.”   


“Gandalf delivered your note.” Kíli  smirked. “Don't know what it said, but Uncle was as strange as I've ever seen him.”   


Bilba smirked.   


“Good.” She spat, feeling rightfully resentful. Kíli  snickered quietly.

“Anyway we had a mountain to set up and work that needed doing. But Uncle was _ convinced _ his future queen would get herself killed so as soon as I was healed he sent me out after you.”

“Oin told me you weren't badly injured?” Bilba asked, frowning. From what she had gathered prior to her departure the young prince had been in good enough health after the battle and certainly not injured enough to have delayed him the extra months it had taken him to reach the Shire.

Kíli  sent a pointed glare at Tauriel.

“I had my own quest to be chasing which took longer than expected because _ someone _ needed convincing and had decided to wander North!”

Tauriel leaned back so she could glare fondly at her dwarf.

“Forgive me, but what would a dwarven prince want with a lowly Silvian elf who was banished from her realm?”   


“What wouldn't he want with a creature such as you?” Kíli  murmured, leaning towards her and grinning charmingly.

Bilba grimaced and kicked the table with her foot.   


“Not in my parlour, thank you very much!” She cried and the couple sprang away from each other, turning back to her with flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “Honestly.”

The now blushing Kíli  continued.

“After I had chased down my lady...”

Bilba snorted.

“What?” Kíli  asked, affronted.

“Dwarves, in my experience,” Bilba smiled gently. “Do not catch elves unless they wish to be caught.”   


Tauriel laughed when Kíli  turned offended eyes on her.   


“It is true, _ A'maelamin _ . I had heard you coming for several days and decided it would be kinder to wait for you, rather than have you exhaust yourself.”

Kíli  spluttered.   


“But...you....and the pond and....”

“Even a disgraced guard captain has weapons at her disposal if she so wishes to influence fate.” Tauriel smiled. “And I believe it turned out for the best, no?”   
“Mahal save me,” Kíli  murmured. “After my lady _ allowed _ herself to be caught, I explained what Uncle had sent me out to do and we turned west.”

“That is all very well,” Bilba said gravely. “But it doesn't tell me where you got this dratted idea that I was betrothed to the King of Erebor from.”

“Isn't that obvious?” The dwarf asked, appearing genuinely confused.

“ _ No _ .” Bilba snarled through gritted teeth. Her patience, always limited, was dwindling fast.

“But, you accepted his suit, you exchanged courting gifts...you are betrothed.” Kíli  seemed to feel as though this settled the matter.

“You forget, not all of us do as dwarves do.” Tauriel murmured, watching Bilba with a strangely pitying look. “Perhaps...”

“Your Uncle hated me.” Bilba cried, swiping at her eyes. Really this was just too much. “He called me useless and a burden and a great many other nasty things besides. He threw me off his mountain. No matter _ my _ opinion on the matter, let me assure you that he gave no indication of...”   


“ _ Aiya _ .” Tauriel gave a great sigh and leaned over to push Bilba's teacup into her hand. “Drink and Kíli  will explain properly.” She gave him a significant look. “In as great a detail as he did for me.”   


Bilba sipped at her tea obediently and waited for her heart to calm. This really was a great deal more distress than she'd been expecting this evening.

“Traditionally,” Kíli  began, “Dwarves declare their intent to court a dwarrowdam with a gift. Beads usually.” He gestured to the three wooden beads twined into a braid by Tauriel's jaw with a hint of pride in his eyes. “If she wears them then you have permission to court her. If she refuses them you give up. You are not what she wants. Beads aren't exclusive mind. From what I heard, Gloin's wife considered so many possible suitors that she fair clacked when she walked and her hair hung dead straight from the weight of them.” He took a drink from his cup. “If your beads are removed then you give up. You've been considered and passed over.”   


“Just like that?” Bilba asked, disbelievingly. She herself had be pursued by several hobbits who wouldn't take no for an answer and she said as much.

The dwarf looked insulted by the very idea.

“Of course. Dwarrowdams are sacred to us. If my lady had rejected my suit, I would have turned west with nothing more to be said about it.”   
The look Tauriel gave Bilba explained that she doubted that the talkative dwarf would have had _ nothing _ to say on the matter.

“But...” Bilba spluttered. “Thorin didn't _ give _ me any beads!”

“Can't help but notice, Mistress Baggins,” Kíli  grinned. “What fine dwarven braids you're sporting there.”   
Bilba froze becoming incredibly aware of the metal beads fixing the ends in place. They were almost hidden in thick curls of her hair and she often forgot their presence. She reached back and pulled one forward so she could look at. The dwarf got up and moved over so he could examine it.

“But I found these!” Bilba cried as Kíli  examined each bead. “Someone left them atop my pack wrapped in... in a...pocket handkerchief.” She finished in a whisper. “They were from Thorin?” Bilba asked weakly.

Kíli  snorted.

“Aye. I'd know Uncle's metalwork if I was stone blind. These are silver and see here?” he pointed to one tiny etching. “The Raven? It's his mark. Who did you think they were from?”

“Oh, I don't know!” Bilba groaned. “I just thought someone was being kind. Do you know how hard it is to tame hobbit hair? Dwarvish beads are the only things that seem to work.” She frowned. “Shouldn't he have told me? Or at least presented them properly?”   


“Well...yes.” Kíli  admitted. “But any dwarrowdam would know who they were from so perhaps he just assumed you would know?”

“Or perhaps he felt you would not accept if he gave them outright?” Tauriel suggested.

“Save me from the arrogance of dwarves.” Bilba whispered, curling further into her armchair.

“No wonder he was looking so smug.” Kíli  mused, reaching for another tart. “You're wearing _ nine _ !” A rather pointed look was sent to Tauriel at this moment and the elf grinned and tucked her braid behind her pointed ear.   


“What use is an elf who can be heard coming by the ornaments in her hair?” She teased. “Three is enough.”

“Why _ are _ Tauriel's made of wood?” Bilbo asked thoughtlessly. “Because she's an elf?”

To her surprise, Kíli  went a brilliant shade of red and groaned.   


“It was what I had to hand at the time!” He muttered, obviously embarrassed as his elf pursed her lips again. “I've not had the time to smith a proper set like Uncle. They were specially made though!” He added, as though this was incredibly important. “Hand crafted!”

Tauriel, evidently unable to contain it any longer, burst into loud tinkling laughter.

“And it was a matter of urgency, my lord?” She teased.

Kíli 's flush deepened and he muttered something under his breath that seemed to contain the word “ _ pond _ ” before hissing, “Yes!”

“What comes after beads?” Bilba broke in, before the staring could get any worse. “Sneakily given or otherwise.”   


“Courting gifts.” Kíli  said cheerfully. He shuffled off the armchair and curled up under Tauriel's arm, grinning up at her.

“You didn't perchance receive any gifts from King Thorin?” The elf asked innocently.

Bilba's eyes turned towards the small chest in the corner of the room and they followed her gaze. After some cajoling Bilba got up and unlocked it, drawing out the shimmering mail shirt.   


“ _ Mithril _ .” Kíli  breathed. “He gave you _ mithril _ !”

“I thought he was worried for my safety!” Bilba snapped, folding the shirt carefully and putting it away.

“He was being a possessive show off.” Kíli  complained. “Although likely he was doing his best to match you.”   


“Me?”   


“Your gift.”

Bilba sighed.

“I haven't the faintest clue what you are talking about.”

“Isn't it obvious?” Kíli  gave her a sad smile. “Mistress Baggins you gave him back his homeland.  You gifted him with his kingdom. You saved his life. In my uncle's mind there are few greater treasures.”   


“To dwarves courting gifts are important.” Tauriel broke in. “If a gift is not deemed acceptable a dwarf is welcome to try again, provided his beads remain. If the gift is accepted however...”   


“Which is has been. You kept it.” Kíli  added in explanation.

“It is a sign that the courtship has been at least partly successful. Of course there are usually more gifts exchanged after that, especially if there are several other dwarves in the running. But if a courting gift is accepted from the only accepted suitor...”   


“It would be akin to a betrothal.” The prince finished.

“But I left!” Bilba wailed, feeling somewhat foolish now. “How could he possibly think us betrothed after I left?”   


“Builds character.” Kíli  murmured. “S'what my da used to say. My mother, she accepted his courting gift and then locked him in the mines, whilst laughing her head off. Took him weeks to get out again, but then when he presented his next gift, she knew he was serious. Course she locked him on the battlements after that...but you get my point.”   


“So running away is simply a sign of encouragement?” Bilba whispered, ignoring the light feeling blossoming in her chest.

“What did your note to the King, read exactly?” Tauriel asked quietly.

Bilba's eyes widened.

“I...uh...told him if he had something to say to me...he'd better come and say it himself.” She breathed and Kíli  choked.

“Aye.” He coughed. “That'd do it.”

* * *

Dwarves!

Stubborn, irritating, infuriating creatures.

Bilba dropped a large ham onto the kitchen table, followed swiftly by two loaves and the making of several late night sandwiches. No matter what changes had overcome her on her journey with the dwarves, she was a hobbit at heart and Hobbits needed food to deal with exhausting emotional problems!

Tauriel and Kíli  were amusing themselves in the parlour whilst Bilba bustled around with dinner. Bilba had pointedly left the door to the parlour _ open _ so as to discourage any rakish notions.

Outside Bag End the world seemed a dark and fearsome place, with wind lashing against the windows and Bilba sighed. She hadn't expected to hear from _ any _ dwarves for a very long time, never mind the younger Prince of Erebor. Not that Kíli  ever really acted like a Prince, Bilba had to keep reminding herself that the dwarves she had known were important people now and she had to act accordingly.

Important people like Kings.

What was Thorin thinking, she wondered as she fetched jam from the larder as well as yesterday's scones. Her? Of all people? Thorin had never given any sign he'd returned her affections to any degree greater than friendship, let alone that he'd considered courting her. If she hadn't seen how serious Kíli  was, she'd have thought the whole thing a joke.

“Are elven rituals so convoluted?” Bilba asked when both her guests had finally come through.

Tauriel seemed to consider the question seriously as she filled their cups with mead.

“No.” She said at last, setting the jug down. “We are somewhat more direct.”

“How so?”   


“Well, when an elf wishes to inform another of their interest they,” She paused to check Kíli  was listening, which judging by his furrowed brow he was doing intensely.  “Simply ask.”

Kíli  dropped his fork.

“And that's it, is it?” Bilba asked, amused.

Tauriel shrugged.   


“Love is taken seriously by my race. It is not something to waste time over or to bargain about. You love or you do not. There is no in between.”

Bilba stifled a laugh at the half-offended, half scandalised look on the dwarf's face as he stared at the pair of them, before eventually sighing and muttering, “ _ Elves _ .” under his breath.

* * *

“I think this is enough for one night.” Bilba announced. “Tauriel, we've got a bed which should fit you at the end of the hall.”

“My thanks.” The elf murmured, getting to her feet.

“Kíli , you can stay at the _ other _ end of the hall.” Bilba ordered.   


Kíli  turned an offended look on her.

“It's as though you don't trust me!” He cried.

“I don't.” Bilba dead panned. “Especially not where Tauriel's concerned. But you two will behave yourselves under my roof.”

Tauriel looked like she was laughing and Kíli  scowled terrifically, looking eerily akin to his uncle.

Logically, Bilba knew that having her bedroom situated between both of the lovers' was only going to stop Kíli , due to the sheer amount of noise dwarves made when they moved. If Tauriel decided to leave her room....well she _ was _ hundreds of years old. She probably knew better than to be caught.

* * *

Bilba took Tauriel to the market for two reasons. Partly to see what the other Hobbits would do, and partly because she felt guilty about having such a tall creature cooped up in her smial.

The elf was good company, walking silently next to her and occasionally asking questions about the Shire and Hobbit life in general. It was easy to see why the Big Folk compared Hobbits to Elves, with their pointed ears and merry ways. Tauriel was greeted easily by those they met and openly stared at by a great many more.

“So,” Bilba asked as she hefted a sack of potatoes onto her shoulder with ease. Hobbits were strong, steady creatures by nature, but especially when it came to carrying food. “You are betrothed to Kíli .”

Tauriel looked at her sharply and shrugged.

“We are courting.” She decided and Bilba nodded.

“You are betrothed to Thorin.” The elf murmured as they continued on, and Bilba nearly tripped.

“Keep your voice down.” Bilba hissed, glancing around for eavesdropping hobbits. “And I am not betrothed to Thorin! I don't know where he got this...”

“The King cares for you a great deal.” Tauriel pressed and Bilba winced.

“Be that as it may,” She said doggedly. “It is not in my nature to remain where I am not wanted. What would I do in Erebor anyway? I'm not a scholar, nor a warrior, nor anything else for that matter. I'm a gentle hobbit, well respected...” She paused. “I _ was _ well respected in these parts till I ran away with dwarves.”

Tauriel was silent through the buying of fruit and butter and only spoke up again when they were walking away from the market, weighed down by their purchases.

“Mistress Baggins...”   


“Bilba, please.”   


“Bilba,” Tauriel frowned. “Are you a widow?”

Bilba gaped at her and almost dropped her basket.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” She demanded, wide eyed.

The elf seemed confused.

“From what I have observed, it is rather unusual for a hobbit lady of good birth and wealth to not be married. Is that wrong?”

Bilba smiled faintly, catching on.

“Ah,” She murmured and continued down the path. “No, you're not wrong. Normally I would be married by now and with a gaggle of little un's besides. But that good birth and wealth is more of a bother than I would like it to be. I've had a great many suitors and when I was a bit younger I entertained a few men, make no mistake of that. But I like my freedom.”   


Tauriel glanced at her.

“Your freedom?”

Bilba nodded resolutely.

“Mm. I am wealthy enough to care for myself and in good enough standing to be trusted to do so. I saw no reason to burden myself with a hobbit who'd simply bring in mud and empty my wine cellar.” She sniffed. “Besides, I've always been considered a little strange, what with my mother being who she was.”

“And who was she?”

Bilba smiled fondly.

“Belladonna Took was an adventuress. She roamed far over the Shire and into the nearby lands of Men. I believe she even met an elf or two on her travels. It was quite the scandal at the time. Now, of course, people say she passed her wanderlust onto her daughter. That's her picture atop the fireplace.”

They'd reached Bag End's gate and Tauriel pushed it open, stepping aside for Bilba, who staggered through with her purchases. It was good to be home.

* * *

“What are your plans?” Bilba asked bluntly, several days later.

They were eating lunch on the green hill atop the third guest bedroom, and were enjoying the spring sunshine. Bilba had acted as a gracious host and had refrained from doing more than dropping hints about the future. Not that she wanted her guests gone! No, far from it. Having Tauriel and Kíli  with her had brought her a joy she'd not known in months. The only issue fell with the fear of the unknown on the horizon and if dwarves had taught her one thing, it was that problems were to be met head on.

Kíli  smirked.

“I was wonderin' how long it'd take you to speak plainly.” He snickered. “Back amongst your books and doilies and you turn back into a right proper hobbit.”   


“Proper hobbits don't carry swords.” Bilba snapped, slightly stung. There weren't that many doilies and most of them Bilba had made herself.

“Do they hit people with spoons too?” Kíli  complained, rubbing the small bruise on the back of his hand. Bilba eyed it without regret.

“You were thieving my biscuits. If you're going to steal from a burglar do your best not to be caught.”

Kíli  ate a sandwich and watched Tauriel whittle a block of wood with her knife.

“My instructions,” He said at last, swallowing. “Are to deliver your pardon, which I have done, and to wait with you until you are ready to make way for Erebor. Uncle understood that it might take you some time to get your affairs in order.”

Bilba scowled.   


“But I'm not _ going _ to Erebor!” She cried and Kíli  grinned.

“Then I will be waiting here a long time.”

Bilba tore up a handful of grass before immediately feeling guilty and setting it down again.

“I've got half a mind to go to back just to smack Thorin about his head.” She muttered and Kíli  snickered.

“Ah, don't worry, Auntie.” He teased. “He'll get impatient soon enough and be here before you know it!”

Bilba glowered at the dwarf and he flinched.

“He'd better not.” She growled. She paused and then added darkly, ''Auntie?''

Kíli  grinned mischievously and legged it.


	3. Dwarrowdams

Bilba had been expecting her gardener when her next guest arrived and so had failed to properly check who was at the door when she opened it.

“Come in, Hamfast.” Bilba turned away to call down the hallway, without looking at the doorway. “Kíli, if you throw one more of my plates for your party trick, so help me dwarf....”

A loud yell, sharp as a whip and with the power of an army behind it cut through the air, causing Bilba's heart to skip.

“Kíli!”

From Bilba's kitchen there was a short scream and the tinkle of breaking china. Tauriel appeared at the end of the corridor, arrow knocked. Terrifying and elegant for all that she had to stoop slightly to manage it.

Bilba had Sting drawn before she even finished turning, although she almost dropped the blade when she saw who it was.

The dwarrowdam's long raven hair was braided back neatly and strewn with silver beads and the occasional bit of chain. She wore a coat in midnight blue, edged in pale fur and large metal boots were planted firmly on the floor. Her beard was closely cropped to her chin and dark eyes surveyed the hallway with suspicion as she idly swung the large war hammer hanging easily from her left hand.

She was also, unmistakably, Thorin's sister.

The impasse might have gone on for some time, had Kíli not appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, looking pale, one hand buried in his braids.

“Tauriel!” He begged. “Bilba, that's my mother!”

“Ah.” Tauriel murmured nervously.

Both the sword and the bow were lowered, and Kíli edged his way slightly further into the hall, looking for all intent and purposes like a man heading to the gallows.

“Why don't we talk outside?” Bilba decided, ushering both dwarves out the door. “Where things are less breakable?” She added, eyeing the hammer.

They assembled in Bilba's garden, where Kíli 's mother and Bilba stood on opposite sides of the path, looking stern and Kíli and Tauriel stood in front of the door, looking worried and guilty.

“Mother?” Kíli greeted, looking somewhat terrified. “What're you doing here?”

Dís' dark eyes surveyed them all with suspicion.

“The caravan was passing by on its way to Erebor,” She frowned. “I thought I ought to visit my brother's betrothed. I did _ not _ expect to find you here.” A slightly wicked smirk hung around her mouth. “Are you going to introduce me?”

Kíli swallowed, loudly.

“Uh...Of course. May I introduce my mother, Dís  Princess-Under-The-Mountain.”   
“At your service,” Dís added easily, giving them a low bow.

“Mother, this is Uncle's betrothed,” Bilba scowled and tried not to grind her teeth. “Bilba Baggins and…” Kíli hesitated for only a fraction of a second before he said, “this is the Lady Tauriel, _ my _ betrothed.” very quickly.

Dís froze and just stared. Bilba watched her face and took in the slight widening of her eyes when she spotted the beads hanging, half hidden, in Tauriel's hair, the frown which said “That's an _ elf” _ and then the small smile accompanied by an eye roll which seemed to say “Only Kíli ”.

The dwarrowdam let out a slow breath.

“Does your Uncle know about this?” She asked blandly.

Kíli evidently realised the danger had passed and beamed, clutching Tauriel's hand.   


“No.” He informed her cheerfully.

Dís snorted.

“Ack, good. Then I haven't missed the good bit. Nice to meet you, elf.” Suddenly those worrying eyes were turned back to Bilba “And nice to meet the halfling who's marrying my brother.”

Bilba scowled.   


“For the last time, I am _ not _ marrying Thorin!” She declared, stamping her foot.

Dís  raised an eyebrow and said, out of the corner of her mouth,

“She's aware how stubborn your Uncle is, isn't she?”

Kíli  snickered.   


“Firmly in denial this one.” He whispered back, as though remarking about the weather.

Bilba resisted the urge to scream.

* * *

Dís settled into a kitchen chair with a surprising amount of grace for her size and looked around the room approvingly.

“You have a lovely home,” She complimented. “Dwarves don't go in for small, which is a pity. But this is very nice indeed.” She turned to Tauriel, eyes sharp. “So tell me something of yourself, Mistress? Where do you hail from?”

Tauriel looked remarkably nervous, which surprised Bilba as she never seen an elf look anything less than composed, even in the heat of battle. She eyed Dís  with the sort of caution usually shown towards a rabid bear and smoothed her skirt over her knees.

“The Greenwood.”

Dís nodded slowly, a slight frown forming between her eyebrows.

“You're one of...” She said something in Kuzdul which sounded incredibly insulting and that Dwalin hadn't seen fit to teach Bilba, but probably meant “ _ That bastard's _ ” “...Elves aren't you?”

Tauriel nodded slowly.

“If by that you mean King Thranduil, then yes. I suppose I was. I've been banished.”

Dís leaned forward in interest.

“Whatever for?”

Tauriel flushed.

“It is considered inappropriate for the Captain of the Guard to leave her post in order to follow escaped dwarves.”

“Captain of the Guard?” Dís looked the elf over in interest. “You are a warrior?” Tauriel nodded and the dwarf smirked. “We will have to make a go of it sometime.” Kíli went white and sat down rather heavily. “Now,” She turned to Bilba who'd been busy preparing a tea tray. “What's this about you not marrying my brother? From what my Fíli has written it'd be practically a scandal not to.”

The plate of biscuits hit the table with rather more force than Bilba had intended and one slid off the side. Tauriel snatched it up, looking desperate for something to do with her hands.

“I hardly see how...” Bilba began, but Kíli cut across her.

“Uncle was rather obvious about it.” He told his mother. “Some...not me obviously, but some, would say... _ brutal _ . It'd have to be love for him to be so...” He made a sweeping gesture and Bilba scowled.

“Obvious?” She demanded. “Obvious? The first I knew about this entire nonsense was when you showed up at my door a month ago. If you hadn't told me I'd have spent the rest of my life blissfully unaware of the issue!” She turned away to pour the tea. “Utter rubbish.” She added, mostly to herself.

“No offence,” Dís started, in the tone of someone who was about to be intentionally offensive. “But for a halfling who claims to want nothing to do with my brother, you have no problem flaunting his interest.”

Bilba set the mugs down on her kitchen table with a frown.

“I don't know what you mean.” She complained and Dís snorted.

“You're wearing his courting beads for all and sundry to see, deny it all you want...” Bilba's hands flew to her hair. Admittedly, after Kíli had told her what the beads meant...she had considered... In the end, she'd just handed the beads to Kíli when he'd offered to redo her braids and tried not to think about it.

“Beads are beads.” She said quietly. “And I am not a dwarf.” She met Dís ' eyes and the other woman watched her with something dangerous lurking in her eyes. That was fine. Bilba had met scarier things than a dwarven princess.

“Thorin is demanding you return to Erebor with me.” Dís snapped and Bilba wondered how much Fíli was telling her in his letters.

“Thorin lost all right to my presence when he dropped me off the battlements of that forsaken mountain.” Bilba hissed back and Dís stilled.

“We need to talk, you and I.” She waved a hand at her son. “Go be somewhere else.”

“Mother!” Kíli protested. “I'm over eighty you know.”   


“Aye, now scram. And take the elf with you.”   


The elf winced but took the escape willingly and ducked out of the room, followed by Kíli  who took the biscuit plate with him.

Dís  waited until the front door closed behind them before saying,

“He did what?” very quietly.

Bilba sighed.   


“I see Fíli didn't inform you of that part.” She murmured, sitting down in another chair, tea tray mostly forgotten. ''He was gold-mad and very angry. I had...I claimed the Arkenstone as part of my share of the treasure and used it to barter a peace with the army of dwarves and elves outside the mountain. Thorin, once he'd realised what I'd done...'' She shrugged, picking at a coaster. ''I was lucky Gandalf was able to catch me. Hobbits aren't built for heights.''

Dís lean forward in her seat, sighing.

'' _ Menu gajatu _ .'' She murmured. ''Not that it was truly a punishable crime. And for what it's worth...You have my thanks. No good has ever come from that accursed stone. I remember our grandfather, only just mind you, but it's a memory that sticks.'' She shuddered. ''But if you truly felt nothing for him...why did you save his life?''

Bilba thought back to the battle, to slipping on the ring and running to Thorin as fast as she could.

''He is King-Under-the-Mountain.'' She said slowly. ''And the leader of our company. How could I do any less?''

Dís smiled at her. It wasn't remotely comforting.

''Ah,'' She said. ''But Mistress Baggins, you are no dwarf.''

Bilba didn't have an answer to that.

* * *

“Why doesn't Tauriel bother you?” Bilba asked as the two women smoked their pipes in the garden. Dís had been with them for almost two weeks now and spent her time either keeping Bilba company or working in Hobbiton's forge. She was a smith by trade, preferring being paid over being proud. By now she’d repaired every plow in a five-mile radius. “Thorin remained steadfast in his hatred of elves.”

Dís sighed heavily.

“I have never hated the elves as a race.” She said at last. “Unlike Thorin, I am not so foolish as to judge the many by the few. And...” She breathed out a plume of smoke. “Fíli takes after his da. Loyal, honest, bright as a button.... Kíli however...He's a Durin through and through, just like Thorin an' I. And we Durin's are a nasty lot, with quick tempers and the stubbornness of granite. We're fierce and determined and usually wrong. We need good people to balance us out. Now Kíli, he hasn't got our bitterness, not yet.” Dís grunted. “Still waitin' for that trait to set in. But once he's got his heart set on something, once he's found something he loves, he won't let go of it for naught.” She gave Bilba a pointed look, “Much like his Uncle.”

Bilba blew a smoke ring at the dwarf, but it wasn't news to her. Thorin had had his heart set on reclaiming Erebor, and nothing would have, or had, stood in his way.

“Besides,” Dís murmured. “That elf is a darn sight nicer than some of the Iron Hills Dwarrowdams.”

“How so?” Bilba asked.

“Cursed our family may be, but any girl with a lick of sense can see there's money to be made in the Durin line. Everyone expected Thorin to die without a direct heir, which made Fíli an open target, closely followed by Kíli. Durin's,” She added as Bilba stared. “Tend to have a short life expectancy. Or we have recently at any rate.  My boys used to have quite a problem with overzealous suitors.”

“Tauriel locked Kíli  in a cell,” Bilba said suddenly.

Dís grinned.

“Did she? Good for her. Builds character, you know.”

“So I've heard.” The hobbit muttered sullenly.

* * *

Kíli was holding Bilba's ball of wool and wincing every time a clash of metal smacked through the open window. Dís had finally managed to convince Tauriel to spar with her. Kíli hadn't wanted to see the two women he cared about most attempting to kill each other and so had taken refuge inside. Bilba secretly suspected he didn't want to be forced to pick a side and so had decided evasion was the better part of valor.

''What're you knitting?'' He asked.

Bilba looked down at her latest project and wrinkled her nose. It was about half finished, midnight blue with silver flecked through.

''A new hood for you.'' She admitted, holding it out to him. ''Your old one's a state. Not fit to be seen. I tried mending it but...'' She choked to a stop because Kíli was hugging her.

''Thank you, Auntie!'' He beamed. He handed her back the knitting and she started up again. Kíli 's choice of title had stopped bothering her, mostly because she couldn't help but consider the young dwarf to be part of the family. The closest relatives she had, not counting Lobelia of course, was dear cousin Drogo and she hardly saw him for all that he lived twenty minutes away.

''I hope Uncle's all right.'' Kíli murmured, deceptively innocently.

Bilba let out a long breath through her nose.

''Only he was in a right state when I left.''

''No wonder, with the elves and men breathing down his neck, not to mention that cousin of yours.''

''Not just that.'' His dark eyes glanced up at her. ''He was worried about you. Didn't like that you'd gone off on your own. Not even Balin could calm him down.''

''Kíli...'' Bilba rebuked softly.

''He does truly care for you,'' The dwarf added. ''I know he ain't all...Ain't like the hobbits here,'' Kíli had been shocked at how carefree hobbits were with their affections. ''But...''

''Please, Kíli .'' She murmured. ''That is not fair.''

Kíli scowled.

''Why won't you marry him? He loves you, you love him, I can hardly see the...''

''You're not going to be King, are you?'' Bilba asked sharply.

Kíli blinked at her.

''No?'' He offered. ''I'm just the spare, Fíli's the heir and a far better King than I'd ever make.''

Bilba nodded.

''And that's why no one bats an eye at you wandering off with an elf. It doesn't matter what your offspring's lineage is, does it?''

He flushed.

''Your Uncle does not have that luxury. He cannot marry a hobbit, even if he wanted to which I still very much doubt. He'll marry some nice dwarrowdam and fix his kingdom and it'll all be fine.'' Bilba realised her stitches had gotten rather tight and loosened her grip on the knitting needles. ''And besides,'' She added, more calmly. ''What would I do in Erebor? I'm no Queen, nor a warrior, nor anything terribly much. I  know little about dwarves and their customs, I'd be an embarrassment to the King. I'd have nothing to do with my days. Here,'' She gestured around her at the walls of the home her father had built. ''I have everything I need. I know my place in the world and no matter how I feel about it, that place is not by the side of your Uncle.''

Kíli stared at her sadly.

''But Auntie, here, you're all alone.''

Bilba smiled fondly.

''Ack, that's not for you to worry about. I've got my family and my books and my garden. I'll be fine. Anyway, I doubt anything will come to pass of it. I'm sure your Uncle has better things to be thinking about than me.''

Kíli looked rather doubtful and opened his mouth to say something more when there came a great roar of Kuzdul through the window and he became dístracted.

* * *

“Miss Baggins!” Drogo burst through her front door and stumbled into her. “Miss Baggins.” He seized her by the shoulders and grinned at her broadly. “It is a good day!”

Bilba laughed, his happiness proved infectious. 

“Is it?” She felt the dwarves behind her slowly relax as they realised the intruder was not a threat. “What’s happened?” 

“She said yes!” Drogo danced her around the hall and started laughing. “Primula! She agreed to marry me!”

The older hobbit allowed herself to be caught up in the merriment. 

“Ah, this  _ is  _ a good day!” She cried. “Come Drogo, we will have tea and you can tell me all about it.” 

Drogo released her and then stumbled to a halt, taking in the three guests who were watching them from the doorway to the kitchen.    
“Oh, bless me. You really do have dwarves staying with you! Drogo Baggins” He bowed low. “At your service.” 

“Well, Tauriel is an elf,” Bilba corrected, amused. “But yes. I really do. Although I dread to think what rumours are already being spread.”   


Drogo made a vague hand gesture which Bilba chose not to interpret. 

After the usual exchanging of pleasantries, Bilba managed to get everyone sat down around her kitchen table while she set about making afternoon tea. 

“So you are getting married!” Kíli asked joyfully and her cousin beamed back at him. “Tell us about your betrothed?”   


“Her name is Primula Brandybuck and she is the fairest hobbit to walk the lands…”   


Bilba and Dís exchanged an eye roll. Both were too old to make the mistake of asking a lovestruck fool about the object of their affections. Kíli seemed genuinely interested however and listened raptly to the tail of Drogo and Primula’s courting, even asking a few questions in places about Hobbit courting traditions. By the time the story had wound down Bilba had managed to serve tea and Kíli was soon distracted by scones. 

“Which leads me to why I am here, Miss Baggins,” Drogo murmured, “I was hoping to ask you for a favour.”

Bilba looked at him curiously over the rim of her teacup. 

“Name it,” She announced. 

Drogo got to his feet and moved to stand in front of her chair, drawing himself up to his full height. 

“Mistress Bilba Baggins, Daughter of Belladonna Took, Favoured Grandchild of the Thain, I would ask that you stand as the family for me when I venture to Brandybuck hall and ask for her hand. My ma is long since passed and it would be my ‘onor to have my favourite older cousin stand for me.”   


There was a long silence in the room as Bilba’s guests stared and Bilba herself set down her teacup and got up from her kitchen chair. She took Drogo by the hand and smiled broadly at him. 

“I would be proud.” She kissed him gently on the cheek, mind reeling. “There is much to be done. We will need to find a gift for the Brandybuck’s,” She looked at him critically. “And you need a new waistcoat and we’ll have to dig out your best shirt. And then there is the matter of the meeting. I will arrange it for,” She paused to think, “Two days time. I had better be off to see them right away or else it will be too late for visiting.” Drogo grinned at her. “Actually, quick lad. Run home and fetch your sister. Make sure she has a clean apron. I’m leaving as soon as she gets her. Go on!”

Drogo went, skidding slightly as he ran out of Bag End. 

“My apologies,” Bilba smiled at her guests. “I am about to be  _ very _ busy.” 

“What just happened?” Dís demanded, looking incredibly amused. 

Bilba grabbed her sheers and beckoned them out into the garden. 

“Drogo has gotten permission from Primula to marry,” She explained as she started collecting the makings of a bouquet from her flower beds. “And now he needs to convince the Brandybucks. To do that he needs a woman from his family to speak on his behalf.”   


“Why a woman?” Kíli asked, confused. 

Bilba considered that. 

“Two reasons. Partly to show that he has the approval of his family, which is very important. And partly to show that the women of his family consider him to be the sort of hobbit who deserves a wife. It’s to show that as a man, Drogo can be trusted. Normally his mother or an older sister would do this, but he has neither. Although he’s Dís playing some sense by asking me.” She began arranging the blooms and Dís handed her a piece of twine to tie it with. 

“Why?” Tauriel asked.

“Well, I am Drogo’s second cousin,” Bilba explained, “But I am also Primula’s first cousin on my mother’s side which means the Brandybuck’s, who can be a little excitable, will be a bit more willing to hear us out if I’m there.”

Dís was watching her thoughtfully. 

“You’ve got a talent for politics.”    


Bilba scowled, knowing exactly where her thoughts had gone. 

“At hobbit politics. Now, excuse me, I must get changed.”   


* * *

Once Bilba had changed into a more formal visiting dress and had undone her dwarven braids, she emerged from her room to find Hanna,  Drogo’s younger sister, being entertained by Dís. At only seventeen, Hanna wasn’t old enough to represent her brother but it would certainly look better if BIlba brought her along. Dís tisked when she caught sight of Bilba and shoved her down roughly into a chair, snatching the beads out her hand and began to dig her fingers into the curls. 

“Nothing too Dwarvish please.” Bilba requested. Dís snorted in disgust. Bilba turned her attention to her younger cousin. “Now, Hanna, when we get to Brandybuck hall…”

* * *

As Bilba predicted, she spent the next few days being extremely busy. The initial meeting between Garbadoc and Bilba had gone very well and an ecstatic Primula received permission to marry the young Baggins. Bilba had been sucked into planning an impromptu engagement party and by the time the day of the party dawned, she had barely seen her guests for days. Still, she was able to spend the day at her leisure, so she packed a basket, roused the dwarves and Tauriel who never really seemed to sleep and led the company out into the Shire countryside for a picnic. 

“Do we need to take a present for the party?” Kíli asked, tucking into a large meat pie.

They were sitting in the dappled shade of a large oak tree, enjoying the late spring sunshine. 

“I’d been meaning to ask,”Dís murmured, looking uncharacteristically relaxed. “What is the protocol is for Hobbit gatherings?”

Bilba laughed. 

“A lot like the elves, I think.” Tauriel smiled faintly. “There will be food and ale and music and dancing. Everyone will bring good wishes for the happy couple, but no gifts. That’s for the wedding. Garadoc will get  _ very _ drunk. Cousin Lobelia will no doubt berate me for any number of things.” The dwarves wouldn’t even raise an eyebrow at this point. Dís had made a name for herself, and anyone who could fix a plow was welcome in the Shire. Tauriel was automatically accepted for being an elf and Kíli simply charmed any hobbit who got close enough. Drogo had eagerly invited them to the party.

“Will we need to get dressed up?” He asked, now moving onto the potato salad Bilba had packed. 

“Don’t wear your armor,” Bilba grinned. “But otherwise no. Whatever clothes you have will be fine. Besides, you’re a little large for most of the clothes I have.”

Dís let out a loud bark of laughter. 

“Besides this party is mostly just the preliminary to the wedding which will be a much bigger affair.” 

Dís pulled out her pipe and began packing it with tobacco. 

“And when will the wedding be?”   


“In less than a month, I imagine.”   


Dís  choked. 

“What?” She gasped, smoke leaking out of her mouth and nose. “So soon?”

Next to her Kíli and Tauriel looked similarly shocked. 

Bilba chuckled.    


“Hobbit weddings are traditionally rushed affairs. We try to have them  _ before  _ the bride starts showing.” 

Kíli frowned. 

“What do you mean showing?” 

Next to him, Dís was looking at Bilba with knowing horror. 

“You mean….?”

Bilba giggled. 

“I’ve known many a bride’s gown to need altering before the wedding to make space for sudden...growth.” She made a gesture with her hand over her belly and Dís groaned. 

“But...that’s not proper,” She growled. “In dwarven society…”   


“We’re not dwarves.” Bilba pointed out gently. “And young hobbits have the unfortunate combination of loving incredibly passionately and being awfully fertile. So accidents...happen.” She paused for a moment. “Regularly.”    


Dís had been both amazed and alarmed at the sheer size of hobbit families. Mirabell Took, who’d brought her husband’s cartwheel into the forge to be mended had gleefully told Dís about the exploits of all sixteen of her children. Dís had come back to Bag End sometime later looking dazed. 

“Wait!” said Kíli suddenly, looking between his mother and Bilba, “Are we talking about what I think we’re talking about?”   


Dís glowered at him. 

“You are a dwarf, Kíli and you will remember to act as such! Am I understood?”   


Thoroughly confused Kíli nodded frantically and went to look for sticks to whittle. Dís turned to Tauriel who was examining an apple with more interest than the fruit probably warranted. 

“I hope elves are not so…” She scowled, “Free with their affections?”

“Elvish children,” Tauriel said, delicately and with the barest touch of disdain, “Are an unusual and rare delight.” She got up and followed Kíli, leaving Dís looking thoughtfully at Bilba behind her. 

“So these cousins of yours?” She asked bluntly. “Are they…?”   


“I should hope not!” Bilba sniffed. “Drogo is a Baggins and Baggins are always the height of propriety and very reserved in their affections. Poor Primula has been trying to get Drogo to propose for nearly three months now. She spent even longer trying to get him to notice that she was courting him even though he’s been dotty over her for years.”

Dís gave her a long look. 

“Clearly obtuseness runs in the family.”

Bilba threw an apple at Dís ’ head and grinned savagely when it struck the Princess in the temple. 

* * *

Hobbit dancing, with all its whirling twirls and complex reels, was apparently far enough removed from dwarven or elven dances that it completely stumped her guests. Still, Bilba noted, surveying the party from a corner, they seemed to be enjoying themselves. Dís had found the group of grandmothers which seemed to congregate at every hobbit gathering to swap gossip and pair up their grandchildren. Half the business in the Shire went through those grandmothers and Dís seemed right at home. Meddling dwarf that she was.

Kíli was attempting to lead Tauriel in the dances and barely keeping his feet, whilst his elf twirled effortlessly through the fray. He followed her laughing raucously and accepting the cheers of the assembled hobbits for his efforts. 

Bilba herself was keeping out of the way. She had not worn her ring in a long time, had in fact, locked it away in a chest in her home so she wasn't tempted. If she was a hobbit then there should be no room for mischief. Although now she desperately wished to Dís appear as she caught sight of a familiar pinched expression making its way towards her. 

“Dís graceful,” Lobelia hissed as soon as she was close enough. 

Bilba held up one finger, causing her cousin to sputter, and downed her tankard. 

“Lobelia,” She said warmly. “How are you this evening? Enjoying the party?”

“No, I am not!” Lobelia seemed to swell with indignation. “How dare you cavort in such a manor? Bringing shame on our family?”

“I was rather enjoying the music myself,” Bilba said, apropos of nothing. Lobelia ignored her. 

“First you go off cavorting with thirteen other men and dwarves besides!” She grabbed Bilba’s wrist tightly, sinking her nails in. Bilba felt her temper begin to rise. “And now? Entertaining another dwarf in your home without supervision?”   


“His mother and betrothed are staying as well!” Bilba snapped, glad her voice was lost in the noise of the party to all but those closest. Those who did hear suddenly became very interested in their tankards. 

“And now you represent the family, when you are a Dís grace to everything Baggins, in this wedding?”   


“Drogo asked me to stand for him.” Bilba insisted, wrenching her arm out of Lobelia’s clawed grip. “And at least I am a Baggins in name and not marriage, Sackville!”

“You have no shame!” Lobelia snarled, face reddening unpleasantly. “The Thain should have taken you to task an age ago, but here you stand bold as brass like the Shire who…”

“Do Not Finish That.” 

Shocked, both Lobelia and Bilba turned to find Kíli, flanked by Tauriel who was holding fresh tankards, glowering at them. For the first time Bilba saw that infamous Durin temper his uncle had such poor control of, reflected in Kíli’s eyes. 

“You will not say such things about my blessed Aunt!” Kíli shoved between the two hobbits, towering over poor Lobelia who took several steps back out of fright. “Go before I have to find out what the penalty is for pinning a hobbit to a tree with arrows!” 

Lobelia went. 

“Ah, Kíli,” Bilba breathed. She turned him by the shoulders and smiled gently up at him. “It’s okay. Not a battle I need you to fight.”   


“But…” He glanced at his mother who had made her way over to them, looking slightly concerned. As much as Dís  ever looked concerned anyway. “She called you a…” He trailed off, unwilling to say the word. 

“It’s not the first time.” Bilba insisted, amused. “But she is family and family must be put up with. Do you know she steals my silver spoons everything she comes round for tea. Must have half the set by now.” 

“I will never understand hobbits.” Tauriel sighed. 

* * *

Dís  had taken to watching the road. She would sit on the bench in front of Bag End and smoke her pipe, eyes fixed on the horizon. When Bilba caught her doing this she was move past her and keep her own gaze fixed on the ground. Nothing was coming over that horizon, she was sure of it. 


End file.
